


Secret Escapes

by Unfeathered



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Light BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 18:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18430061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unfeathered/pseuds/Unfeathered
Summary: Reinette shares an intimate moment with her best friend





	Secret Escapes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shopfront](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/gifts).



> Note to recipient: This was going to be proper!Clara/Reinette but then I got entranced by the idea of one of the Clara echoes being planted in the court of Louis XV to protect Reinette/the Doctor from the Great Intelligence. I did at least manage to get in one of those quieter character moments you said you liked, so I hope this works for you and you're not too disappointed by me going off-piste!

Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson (also known as Reinette, and Marquise de Pompadour, and previously known as Jeanne-Antoinette Le Normant d’Étioles) spends a lot of her life exerting exquisite control over her body and mind. It's a definite requirement – perhaps even a necessity – of life in the court of King Louis XV of France. How one sits, how one stands, how one speaks, how one eats, how one schools one's features to hide from the King what one _really_ thinks of his latest wonderful idea… Really, it's never-ending.

Is it any wonder, then, that she takes care to arrange occasions, as often as she can, when she can voluntarily give up some of that control? Occasions when she can be free from the restrictions of the court, of her breeding, of _expectations_ , and just be herself.

There have been a handful of different people throughout her life with whom she'll share those moments, but Clara is by far her favourite. Clara Montague has been with her for almost as long as she can remember, the orphaned daughter of a minor French nobleman, introduced by Madame Poisson as a companion during their teenage years, and they've shared such a lot through that time. They've grown up together, they've talked – very frankly – about what they want, what they like, what they _don't_ like. They've shared experimentation, and discoveries, and discovered that some of the things they each like are the same. And on those nights when her bed's been empty of a husband or, later, a King – especially these last nine years since the King moved on and her bed has been empty of anyone – well, sometimes, there's been Clara.

Not that she begrudged either man the time they spent in her bed. She liked her husband well enough, and she still loves her King. And always she has had the satisfaction of knowing she's nurturing a relationship, increasing the spread of her power, manipulating someone subtly for the good of the kingdom.

But this precious time with Clara? This time is _her_ time – _their_ time. From the moment she starts to shed her elaborate layers of clothing and unpin her hair from its intricate styling, she's free to be herself. To be Clara's. And Clara, at these times, is magnificent. Small in stature, perhaps, but boundless in will, and infinitely sure of herself in a way that Reinette loves. That enables Reinette to let go, secure in the knowledge that if she falls, Clara will catch her.

They never used to use the bed for this, in the days when her bed was still somewhere she entertained the King. Instead, they would make love on the soft fur rug in front of the fire, the flames bathing their skin in golden light. Clara would lay her out on the rug, the fur tickling at her skin whenever she moved, a perfect reminder of the order to stay still while Clara drove her crazy, sent her soaring, and then brought her gently, safely back to earth.

Nowadays, her relationship with the King has evolved to something far beyond the bedroom, so the bed is once more hers alone to bring whomsoever she chooses to it. Mind you, weakened by her various illnesses, the pregnancies that have never made it to term and mourning the one daughter who lived beyond infancy, she doesn't bring anyone to her bed very frequently any more. But when she does it is often Clara, her oldest friend, for comfort and appreciation and much needed release.

Even though they're no longer young enough for the rug on the hard marble floor in front of the fire, they still lie facing the fire afterwards as they always have done, spooned together, watching the flames as they flicker and dance.

"I am so glad you suggested bringing the fireplace with us here," Reinette murmurs, enjoying the warmth of Clara's body behind her as much as the heat from the hearth in front of her. The two constants in her life: the fireplace, symbol of the Doctor, of excitement and adventure as much as of salvation from the monsters; and Clara, her other saviour, the woman who saves her sanity, who calms and quiets her mind when nothing else can.

Clara laughs quietly. "Wouldn't it be funny if the fireplace were to just swing round right now, with him on it! The Doctor?" She strokes down Reinette's bare arm to her wrist, making Reinette shiver in memory of the silk scarves that bound her this evening, soft enough not to leave marks (god forbid she appear in public with bondage marks on her wrists!) but firm enough that she still carries the sense memory of them against her skin.

"I should think his eyes would pop right out of his head," Reinette agrees, letting out a soft sigh as she gives in to sensation and lets her weight tip back against Clara, happy and content. She laughs lightly. "It would be quite the sight, wouldn't it!

Clara's fingers thread through her hair, combing out some of the tangles that have worked their way in during their earlier antics. "You've been thinking about him a lot lately, haven't you?"

"Yes, of course. I am in my thirty-seventh year, Clara. They will be coming for me any day now, the monsters. Those… mechanical men who seek to hide amongst us in plain view, waiting for me to be… _ready_." The loathing she feels for the monsters leaks out in her voice at the word they'd used, and she takes a breath, schooling herself. It's not as necessary when she's alone with Clara, who knows her almost better than she knows herself, but there are some things on which she refuses to feel vulnerable and this is one of them. _Clara_ is always welcome to make her feel vulnerable – very, very welcome – but the monsters are men and she will _not_ allow a man to force her to feel like that.

She glances up at the clock on the mantle, an instinctive manoeuvre she performs more and more frequently as the days pass, to check it is still unbroken, still ticking. It is, and she relaxes again, tipping her head back a little so she can see Clara's face.

"I know that when they return they will bring danger with them," she murmurs. "But, somehow, in my heart I cannot but be grateful that they will also bring me the Doctor."

Clara gives her a tiny smile, just enough to show off the adorable dimple in her cheek. "I wish I had met him. The Doctor. We share so much, you and I. I would love to be able to share that with you too."

"Perhaps the next time, you will meet him." Reinette leans back, studying Clara, that well-known, well-loved face. She smiles. "I think you would like one another. He has a mischievous enthusiasm very much like yours. And he would certainly appreciate your everlasting desire for adventure."

"Well." Clara looks down as she strokes along Reinette's arm, and then smiles up at her through long, dark lashes. "Perhaps its for the best that you only have us one at a time, then. Both at once might be a little too much!"

"Are you suggesting that Madame de Pompadour could not manage two excitable adventurers at once?" Reinette teases, one beautifully kept eyebrow arching in amusement.

Clara dips her head. "Of course not, ma'am," she chuckles, and Reinette laughs and pulls her in for a long, warm, affectionate kiss. Clara laughs too, and kisses her back with equal affection, and when she pulls away there's a great fondness in her eyes. "It's late. We should get some rest." She strokes Reinette's hair back off her face, gentle and caring as always. "Sleep well, my Reinette, and dream of your Doctor. I'll watch over you until he returns."

And Reinette smiles, and sleeps, and dreams of the Doctor, and Clara, and adventures. But not monsters. Her Clara and her Doctor will always save her from those.


End file.
